Chapter Text
Bond and Q had been together for almost two and a half years; from Q’s quieter starts within the bowels of MI6, and through into his appointment as Quartermaster. They were used to one another, had a good relationship that had lasted through Bond’s rehabilitation from fairly severe alcoholism and Q’s serial overwork, and now cast uneasy shadows over the edges of the understanding that after nearly a decade, Alec Trevelyan was definitely not dead.
The news had hit very suddenly indeed. Q had tried to keep Bond safe from it, but M was up in arms and MI6 was buzzing: Goldeneye had near enough toppled Bond, once upon a time, and it seemed incredibly unfair to bring it all back on him and damage him once again over something like Alec.
The Soviets had locked him down in a KGB prison complex. Q couldn’t really blame them; but Alec was their agent, and they had a responsibility in getting him back.
“Fuck it,” Q muttered, and decided it was about time he sent somebody out to retrieve the erstwhile and probably still treacherous ex-agent.
Alec Trevelyan sat in a lockdown cell in the UK two months later, looking pretty much like shit.
“Alec Trevelyan? I’m Q.”
The agent glanced up and down the young man, and raised an eyebrow. “Fuck, they weren’t kidding – how old are you, twelve?”
“Under the circumstances, I would strongly recommend you are very nice to me indeed,” Q commented drily. “I was responsible for your retrieval from the KGB, and I do not have much interest in returning you to their custody. Having spoken to those better-versed in this than myself, it would seem you are no longer a hostile party?”
“KGB, remember? It becomes difficult to keep ones allegiances to anybody who tortures you,” Alec pointed out, with levels of sarcasm that truly bordered on the impressive. “You got me out, I’m all yours. I was… Goldeneye was an aberration, I know, but I didn’t have many options. They were already onto me by then, I did what I had to.”
Q lifted his hands in quiet surrender. “It’s not mine to decide,” he said honestly. “M, and other in MI6, will be working out what to do with you – I don’t believe there will be much of an issue, under the circumstances, but please do not quote me on that. I’m more concerned with Bond.”
“James?” Alec asked, clearly side-swiped. “They told me he had been killed in action years ago…”
“I should hope not, I’m dating the man,” Q returned drily, and ignored Alec’s expression. “I believe he wants to see you.”
“Yes,” Alec returned, without hesitation, and Q could read it in him; Bond had been a fairly substantial part of his life once. The idea of his loss would have been catastrophic, Q knew that.
There was a part of Q that disliked it immensely.
All the same: “I’ll let him know,” Q said quietly, and disappeared to try and tell Bond that his once-lover and once-friend was in MI6, alive, and waiting for him.